


Dean remembers

by sherlock221Bismymuse



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Love, M/M, Romance, The Epic Love Story of Sam and Dean, True Love, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 19:22:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20363779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlock221Bismymuse/pseuds/sherlock221Bismymuse
Summary: Hell, Heaven, the Apocalypse, monsters, Death, God.All were mere bit players in the epic love story of Sam and his Dean.Dean remembers.





	Dean remembers

**Author's Note:**

> Mild spoilers off and on upto season 8

Dean remembers Sam the baby.

The friendliest smiling baby he had ever seen (not that he had seen many babies at the age of four.) But the toothless smiles baby Sam gave him at all times of the day and night were the sun moon and stars of his world.

He held baby Sam and rocked him to sleep. The burden of parenthood heavy on his shoulders when his father’s shoulders sagged with grief and alcohol and let the responsibility slip.

Dean watched. Always watched. Always saw. Always knew.

Exactly when to hush baby Sam so as to not wake up dad. Sometimes by rocking him back to sleep. Sometimes by cuddling him. Sometimes by letting him suck on his finger for comfort.

As he grew up and realized one day that his life was what other people called boot camp, he found it ironic that they ever had to leave home to kill any monsters.

But he was born with a heart bigger on the inside. He was born with the instincts of a hunter from his mother and the capacity for infinite love from his father. Even if that infinite love was now exacting an infinite revenge while sacrificing his own and his sons’ happiness. Sometimes when he thought about it, he felt a wave of sorrow at what his father lost that day when the nursery went up in flames. He lost not only the love of his life and the anchor of his heart, but he also lost the capacity to love again. He became a military man again and Dean became his foot soldier.

Dean thought that he probably called him Sir far more often that he called him Dad.

Dean remembered the time Dad had actually taken them out to eat on one Christmas Day and they had been surrounded by women of all ages cooing with delight at baby Sam who lapped up all the attention and bestowed on them all his smiles and dimples and even laughs. Dean had almost burst with pride when he saw how everyone loved his Sam.

He huffed a laugh now at the thought that his boy had been a chick magnet even before he had turned two.

Dean remembers. The endless nights when he had to care for Sam through snow, summer, every possible missed festival, celebration and milestone.

“Dad! Sam managed to tie his own shoelaces today.”

“Dad! Sam enjoyed his first day of school!”

“Dad!”

Eventually Dean learnt to keep the milestones to himself. He learnt that the celebrations were up to him and he could celebrate every day as he wanted tom, with what he had. So he made up days for Sam.

“Today is the America Lucky Charms Day.” Dean would tell him one morning, when Sam was worried about going to school with his frayed shoes and being laughed at.

“Really?!” Sam would ask, his eyes round with wonder.

“Yeah.” Dean would inform him. “It means you get to eat lucky charms for dinner today. When you get back from school.”

Sam would squeal with delight and forget all about his shoes. That evening he would eat up the bowl full and Dean would cuddle him to sleep, distracting himself from his own hunger with a long elaborate story about the tooth fairy.

“Today is Quiet Day.” Dean would say and Sam would stare him with big round eyes as he did his homework, silent as a mouse.

“Today is Bad Joke Day.” Dean would say with a wicked grin and then tell him one terrible joke after another till Sam was rolling on the bed with laughter and tears were leaking out of his eyes.

Dean remembers with soft sadness that still makes his heart heavy, the day when Sam was 7 and finally realized that these were all Dean days.

“No one in school celebrates Lucky Charms Day.” He had said, his voice breaking and his lips trembling with the memory of being laughed at.

“They are all idiots.” Dean had replied with utter confidence. “And they don’t deserve to celebrate them. Don’t tell them again.”

Sam hadn’t cried that day because he wanted to be brave for Dean. But the next time Dean had suggested a Day Sam had simply told him that he was too old for such things.

Dean remembers the feeling of cold dread that had swept him that day, at age 12, at the knowledge that time was slipping through his fingers and his Sam was growing up.

Dean remembers making up stories for Sam. Half remembered from what Mom used to tell him. Half made up from what he heard Dad and other hunters say. Half from the books he read. Half created from his imagination to somehow let Sam know that everything was going to be fine . If there were monsters under the bed or inside his head, Dean would always vanquish them in these stories.

Sam would look up at him with awe and shining confidence on his face. He was always safe when Dean was with him. Dean was his safety. His refuge. His super hero.

Dean remembers the day when that hero worship turned to rebellion.

  
“Why? Why do you have to listen to him?” Sam was asking, with his hands clutched into angry fists by his side.

When Sam was really angry he wouldn’t call Dad ‘Dad’ but him or sometimes even John. Thus distancing himself from the man who caused him more pain that happiness. Who took him away from school. Who barely focused on his unless they were training or fighting.

And the worst crime of all in Sam’s eyes—who yelled at Dean and made him stand there with chin up and strained eyes. So that he could look Dad in the eye as he was being chewed out and never let a tear fall. The faint redness to Dean’s cheeks at the knowledge that he had somehow disappointed Dad. That he had not been good enough.

Dean remembers the day when Sam had yelled back at Dad. He had stood half in front of Dean, covering him with his body, fists tight by his side again and told Dad that if Dad could not see how perfect Dean was and say something to praise him, then he better not say anything at all.

Dad had looked at Sam with thunder in his eyes.

Dean had been paralyzed with fear and had braced himself for a blow or to pull Sam away when to the utter shock to both of them Dad just blinked and walked out. Out of the room. Out of the motel.

It was a week before he came back.

Now Dean wonders if that was when he went to Adam’s mother. He wonders how often he went to Adam’s mother.

Dean remembers boy Sam growing into young man Sam. Sparring, fighting, bitching, reading, watching TV with him, helping him cook, looking out for him in a way that always shook Dean to his core. Of course Dad had also looked out for him in his own way but there was something almost feral about the fiercely protective looks Sam always had when it came to looking out for Dean.

He never understood how to feel about that. He was supposed to look after Sammy. Not the other way around.

Dean remembers the day he realized that Sam loved him as much and in the same way that he loved Sam.

He remembered thinking fleetingly that the earth would probably sink under the weight of that love because surely no one had ever loved anyone as much as he loved Sam.

And if Sam loved him back in full measure?! That just seemed too much for one simple planet to cope with.

Dean remembers listening in disbelief and with a roaring fire in his heart when Sam had said “There is nothing I would not do for you.”

And the way he had whispered his name. “Dean.”

Even Dean could hear all the meanings in the way he said it.

Dean remembers.

He rolls his eyes at the way his entire life turned into a chick flick from that moment onwards with the constant terms of endearment, tender touches, gentle kisses and of course passionate sex. Desire flaring in his belly almost non-stop. The protectiveness increased a thousand fold if that was even possible. The love seemed to radiate from his very being and he wondered how it wasn’t blatantly obvious to everyone who looked at them.

Dean remembers. The hot flame of jealousy and anguish that had flickered in his belly when he had come back from Hell and found Sam with Ruby. Even worse was when he came back from Purgatory and found that Sam had not even looked for him. He had been shacked up with a woman. This time he did not even have the excuse of being without his soul.

Dean remembers how he had almost reeled under that blow. He had refused to acknowledge what that meant and had simply carried on, because that is who he was. He would always carry on. Saving people. Hunting things.

Even as he realized he could not be saved. This rift between him and Sam was worse than the year he spent in Purgatory.

Dean remembers the day Sam, his Sammy had been brave enough to close that gap. That rift in the universe caused by that one soul split into two bodies. Those two bodies had finally connected and he could have sworn he felt a cool breeze that had calmed his very deepest agonies and soothed every hurt from his existence, while at the same time it had fanned the embers of a burning desire. That strange mixture of fire and ice that was his life.

As he sat there in the warm afternoon sun flexing his fingers, still astonished that he had made old bones, he heard a soft laugh behind him.

“Hey old man. Penny for your thoughts!” He heard a familiar voice.

“Hmm.” Dean grumped. “They are worth far more than that I will have you know.”

“Oh really? What are they about?”

Dean smiled. “What they have always been about. Life, the universe and everything.”

“Ah. You mean you have been thinking about me?” Sam said, grinning as he stood in front of him

“Always Sammy. Always.” Dean said with a smile.

Sam sat next to him and held his face in both his hands and kissed him. Tenderly. Achingly soft.

“Happy Anniversary love.” He whispered as they held hands and watched the fading sunlight glint off their matching rings.

Hell, Heaven, the Apocalypse, monsters, Death, God.

All were mere bit players in the epic love story of Sam and his Dean.

Dean remembers.


End file.
